[Steve's PoV]
Her eyes narrowed, sharp and unyielding. "Good. At least you're not whining."
Another flick, another slash screamed toward me.
This time I didn't swing late, I moved first.
[Burst Flash] kicked in, blurring my form. I was lightning itself, driving my blade at the arc's weakest point where it seemed thinnest. My sword cut into it, but the force exploded outward and ripped across my shoulder.
The cut burned like fire, deep enough that I nearly dropped my weapon.
"Better," Hazel said, her tone steady as stone. "But tell me, where was your kill strike?"
Her question hit harder than the wound. She was right. I wasn't thinking of killing. I was thinking of blocking, surviving, outlasting. She wanted me to kill in one swing.
I pressed my lips together, blood dripping from my arm. "Again."
Hazel smiled faintly—if you could call it a smile. It wasn't warm. It was the kind of expression a warrior gave when the student finally spoke the right words.
